A Fire into Many Flames Divided
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: A oneshot sequel to On That Night, featuring my OC Father Charles. It's Easter and Tim has gone back to the church where he first met Father Charles, hoping for more help.


**A/N: **This is a sequel to a Christmas oneshot called _On That Night_ in which Tim ended up at a Catholic church after a car accident that left the rest of his team seriously injured. He met Father Charles, the priest there. This brings Father Charles back, only at Easter this time. I'm still not Catholic; so if there are any inaccuracies, I apologize. Special thanks to Nzie for the help with figuring out the Easter Vigil, but if I've made any mistakes, they are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS or any of the characters. Father Charles is my own creation, but the other characters belong to the NCIS franchise, and I'm not making any money off this story.

* * *

**A Fire into Many Flames Divided  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

Father Charles loved Easter. He loved Christmas, but he really loved Easter. Christmas was about the birth of Christ. Easter was about the sacrifice that saved them all. Without what had happened at Easter, what happened at Christmas wouldn't matter.

Tonight would be the Easter Vigil. He looked forward to it every year. He always felt humbled at the opportunity he had to lead his congregation in this celebration of Christ's sacrifice. And, as at Christmas, his congregation would be larger than usual. While he would prefer to have them come more often, he'd take them whenever they came.

"Father?"

Father Charles sat up from his contemplation of the altar and smiled at the hesitant woman standing awkwardly beside him.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I need to confess."

"Of course."

He walked to the confessional and sat down. This wasn't someone he knew, but that wasn't the important thing. The act of confession did not require knowing details. It required contrition and a willingness to do whatever penance was appropriate. This was not a part of his job Father Charles enjoyed...except when it lightened the load of those confessing. Hearing the mistakes, the sins others committed was not something he liked.

He heard the woman enter the confessional and kneel. He let her sit quietly for a minute or two to gather her thoughts. He himself prayed for guidance. Then, he opened the window.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession...was four years ago."

He heard the tears already. As she poured out her soul, he listened in silence, letting her confess all that she had done in a life that had gone far astray. After she finished, he thought about what would be the right penance for her. He spoke to her about what would help her break the habits she had formed and gave her a penance. She accepted it and whispered a heartfelt act of contrition.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good," Father Charles said.

"For His mercy endures forever," she said in reply.

Then, she left. Father Charles remained in the confessional, giving her a chance to leave the church. Some found it difficult to speak to him face-to-face after revealing their weaknesses. After a few minutes, he walked out.

He hoped and prayed that she would persist in her attempt to recover herself.

Father Charles walked over and lit a candle for her. Then, he returned to his preparations for the Easter Vigil. He didn't come out into the nave for another hour or two. He liked to make the rounds every so often to make sure there was no one needing him, but with the Easter Vigil coming up soon, he also needed to make sure that all was ready for it.

When he got back out into the nave, there was one man over by the candles. He was just staring at them with a contemplative expression. Father Charles smiled.

"Tim McGee, my favorite non-Catholic!"

Tim started a little and turned toward him. He smiled at the description.

"Hello, Father."

"What brings you here?"

"I thought I'd come for the Easter Vigil. It is tonight, right? I thought I got the day right."

"You did. It doesn't start until dark, though. You're here plenty early. I haven't seen you around in a couple of months. I was beginning to think that you were done with coming."

"It wasn't really planned...but it was easier."

Tim was definitely better than he'd been. The stitches were long gone and the scar that remained would likely disappear in another few months. Still, there was a shadow in his eyes, not as bad as it had been before, but it was still present.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Do you need any help?"

Father Charles smiled at the deflection. He had seen Tim in the congregation a few times following their meeting, but he hadn't had much time to speak to him and Tim had rarely stayed for the entire Mass anyway, choosing to slip out before it ended. In reality, Father Charles wasn't sure why he chose to come, but he would never turn one of God's children away.

"Actually, I think we're mostly prepared for the night, Tim. What brings you here so early if you're going to attend the Easter Vigil? Are you still having trouble with the accident?"

Tim shook his head.

"No."

"Then, what is it, Tim?"

"I just wanted to be in here for a while. You're busy, aren't you."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I don't have time to talk. Remember that this is part of my calling."

Tim was quiet for a few seconds.

"You seem so confident that there's always someone listening," Tim said.

"I am."

"Do you ever have people who believe who...just feel...alone anyway?"

"Of course. We're not perfect. None of us."

"Do _you_ ever feel alone?"

"Yes."

Tim looked back at the candles.

"Does this help?" he asked, gesturing to them.

"It can, if that's what you're looking for. Candles are often lit for others, and you don't need to light a candle for comfort, but sometimes, the symbolism of light is a nice reminder."

"How do you get away from that feeling when it comes?"

Father Charles smiled. "Sometimes, I pray. Other times, I seek out the company of others. Why are _you _feeling alone, Tim?"

Tim smiled a little. "I didn't say I was."

"Give me a little credit. What's brought you here?"

"Aren't you tired of dealing with me yet?" Tim asked. "I only come around when I'm having problems."

"No. Not at all. You've only come a couple of times before this. Three times in four months is not a lot. Just tell me."

Tim sighed and began to talk...which, Father Charles knew was the real reason Tim had come. He didn't begrudge him that, and he could see the need for some kind of guidance. Why Father Charles had become the source for that guidance, he didn't know, but he would listen.

"Gibbs...Tony and Ziva...they've been away from work for a long time. Gibbs came back about a month ago on desk duty, but Tony and Ziva were just getting back this week. They've all become a lot closer because they've all been struggling with physical therapy and recovering and everything, dealing with what happened. I haven't...and somehow...it makes me feel like I'm not...part of it. I can't tell them that because I don't want them to feel bad about something they aren't doing intentionally. It's not their fault. It's just..."

"Are you still avoiding them?"

"I didn't...not while they were in the hospital, but once I was back at work and they weren't..."

"What?"

"I would be so tired in the evenings that I'd just go home and sleep. On the days when I didn't do that, I had therapy...and then, I'd go home and sleep. Abby would drag me over sometimes and I don't mind that...but I think they were all jealous that I was at work and they couldn't be."

"You still feel guilty, don't you. It's not all about being tired."

Tim walked over to one of the pews and sat down. He looked at the altar.

"I remember sitting here and staring, not really thinking clearly...and the only thought I had was that I could have killed my friends...and that I was being blamed for the accident."

"But you weren't."

"Only by myself."

"You can't stop feeling alone if you continue to isolate yourself, Tim."

Tim took a breath and let it out.

"I know, but I...I just can't face all that came out of that accident. I was the only one who was okay, and I wished that I wasn't. Once, while I was driving, it started to snow, just a skiff, and I freaked out. I had to pull over for a few minutes just to calm myself down. I've been working on it with the shrink, but...and I don't get scared about driving...not to that extent anyway, but I haven't had to drive anyone around since then, either. I'm still scared that I'll do something else wrong...or even just that I'll be there the next time and still be the one that comes out unscathed."

"Hardly. Your body may be unscathed, Tim, but it's clear that your mind isn't. It's easier for the body to heal."

"Not always," Tim said. "Sometimes the body _can't_ heal."

"Like your father?"

"Yeah. Like him."

"What about your friends?"

"It's taken a long time. They've been frustrated about how long it's taken for them to be cleared for duty."

"But they _are_?"

"Yeah. This week was the first week they were all back. I've been mostly working on cold cases alone or with another team when they needed the help...but mostly by myself because...my team wasn't there."

Father Charles considered the young man sitting beside him. It was clear that Tim was trying not to let it be a big deal, but it was, and the more he tried to deny it, the more likely he was to slip away...simply because he didn't want to be the one who fell apart when there wasn't an obvious reason for it. He wanted to let it go, but at the same time, Father Charles wondered if Tim felt like he didn't _deserve_ to let it go.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Feel free to stay in here until the Vigil begins. In fact, wait just a moment."

Father Charles went back to the collection of candles that would be distributed to the congregation when they came. He took one and returned to Tim.

"Part of the Easter Vigil involves lighting candles from the light of the Paschal candle."

"Is it all right that I do it when I'm not Catholic?"

"So you keep reminding me," Father Charles said with a smile. "I'm beginning to think that you're saying it as a challenge."

Tim smiled in return.

"Yes, it's fine. Don't worry about that. Do you know what to expect?"

Tim shook his head.

"Not if it involves candles. I thought it was just a Mass."

"There is a Mass, but there's a lot more. It's my favorite service of the whole year."

"Really? Why?"

Father Charles squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"It's all about rebirth, renewal...forgiveness."

"Does God forgive non-Catholics?"

"I don't speak for God on that score, Tim. Thankfully, He's the judge, not me."

"Very clever maneuvering," Tim said with a small smile.

"I'm a priest. What do you expect?"

Tim laughed a little and then took a deep breath.

"So...you think lighting this candle will help?"

"If you let it, I guarantee it."

"If I _let_ it?"

"You have to open your heart and mind, first. If you're determined to feel nothing, God's not going to force you. I think, just like you're afraid to really get back with your friends, you're afraid to let God touch you. I'm not even talking about becoming Catholic, Tim. I'm just talking about not letting the fear hold you back from getting what you can out of life."

Tim said nothing. He stared at the candle. Father Charles smiled.

"Don't force it, Tim. Take some time. This is a sanctuary. You don't have to worry about anything else right now. I've got some last-minute preparations to make, but you're more than welcome to sit right here and prepare for the Vigil."

"Thanks."

It was a soft, heartfelt expression of gratitude. Father Charles got to his feet, patted Tim on the back and went about his preparations. There was still a lot to do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was almost time. Father Charles was in the ceremonial robes befitting the Easter Vigil. The sun had set and soon it would be dark enough to begin. The Paschal fire would be lit and the Vigil could begin.

He walked out into the nave and saw Tim sitting quietly on a pew. He walked over.

"Are you ready for the darkness, Tim?"

Tim looked up at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"We are preparing to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord. We prepare for that celebration by reflecting on the darkness. The loss of light, the stain of sin, the darkness of the world before the resurrection. Keep hold of your candle. We all will be able to share in the light. Just wait. You'll see."

He went back to join the procession. There were two to be baptized tonight. He loved seeing the baptisms and the two elect were standing patiently, looking nervous and excited. He smiled at them as the lights in the church went out, with the exception of a couple of emergency lights, and everyone who had been inside moved out of the doors with the help of the ushers to prepare for the lighting of the fire.

After all were gathered and the time came, all standing together in the darkness, waiting, hoping for the light to come, Father Charles leaned over and started the Paschal fire. It took a few seconds for the fire to catch. They couldn't have a large one, but he always lit the fire outside the church in the darkness...or as much darkness as one could have near Washington, D.C.

There was a ritual to get right, and for that, Father Charles had someone holding the book for him to read, but beyond that, he always had a special feeling of reverence for this moment. It was never just words he spoke. It was more.

"_O God, who through your son bestowed upon the faithful the fire of your glory,  
__sanctify this new fire, we pray, and grant that,  
__by these Paschal celebrations,  
__we may be so inflamed with heavenly desires  
__that with minds made pure,  
__we may attain festivities of unending spendor."_

He added the incense to the candle, lit it and then the procession headed back into the church. As they walked, the candles of the congregation were lit.

"Lumen Christi."

Father Charles smiled as he listened. The deacon had a much better voice for this than he had and he was happy to let him carry the candle and speak that part.

"Deo gratias," the congregation replied.

As they walked in, Father Charles saw Tim receiving the light from a candle and then passing it on. The flickering flame just barely illuminated his face.

"Lumen Christi."

"Deo gratias."

They got inside and headed for the altar, the lit candles giving a warm glow to the nave.

"Lumen Christi."

"Deo gratias."

At the altar, Father Charles looked at the lights spread throughout the church and he felt the same awe he felt every year. There was no rushing through these parts of the Vigil and he didn't want to. It was amazingly quiet within the church, even though there were children present. As the deacon began the Exsultet, Father Charles let himself get lost in the beauty of the prayer. Deacon James had asked for, and been given, permission to chant the Exsultet in Latin. Few would understand the words, but Father Charles hoped they would feel the meaning of the prayer. In light of what he had been thinking about in conjunction with Tim, a few of the words struck him more powerfully than usual as he listened.

"_Sed iam colúmnæ huius præcónia nóvimus,  
__quam in honórem Dei rútilans ignis accéndit.  
__Qui, lícet sit divísus in partes,  
__mutuáti tamen lúminis detrimenta non novit."_

(But now we know the praises of this pillar,  
which glowing fire ignites for God's honor,  
a fire into many flames divided,  
yet never diminished by sharing of its light.)

Tim wouldn't understand the words, but maybe he'd feel them. Deacon James recited the final section of the Exsultet.

"_Flammas eius lúcifer matutínus invéniat:  
__ille, inquam, lúcifer, qui nescit occásum.  
__Christus Fílius tuus,  
__qui, regréssus ab ínferis, humáno géneri serénus illúxit,  
__et vivit et regnat in sæcula sæculórum."_

There was another silence and then a simple, heartfelt reply from the congregation.

"Amen."

Father Charles waited for about a minute to let the feeling of the Exsultet continue uninterrupted. Then, he stepped forward.

"Dear brothers and sisters, now that we have begun our solemn Vigil, let us listen with quiet hearts to the Word of God. Let us meditate on how God in times past saved His people and in these, the last days, has sent us His Son as our Redeemer. Let us pray that our God may complete this Paschal work of salvation by the fullness of redemption."

Then, there were readings from the Old Testament. Instead of doing all of the readings, Father Charles had chosen to cut them down to five...for the sake of those with young children. Then, it was time for the _Gloria_.

The lights came on, flooding the church with bright light. In a way, Father Charles preferred the twinkling candlelight, but at the same time, the flood of the light of Christ had no equal. After the _Gloria_, there were two more readings from the New Testament.

After that, there was the baptism of the elect, their confirmation and then, the Mass which Father Charles led as usual, including the Eucharist and the two newly-baptized members would participate in their first Holy Communion.

With the conclusion of the Mass, the Easter Vigil ended. It took quite some time for everyone to file out of the church. There were so many more than usual. Father Charles spoke with the two who had been baptized, with their families, and circulated through the congregation. He caught a glimpse of the woman who had made confession earlier that day. She slipped away without speaking to him, as he had expected. Forty-five minutes after the Vigil ended, Father Charles said his last good-bye and turned back to the church.

As he had expected, Tim was there, sitting on a pew. He was holding the candle Father Charles had given him. It was still lit although the flame was meager. With a smile, Father Charles walked over and sat down beside him.

There was a period of silence.

"That was beautiful," Tim said, his voice a little shaky.

"Thank you."

Another silence.

"Have you ever noticed that light is one of those things you can share and not diminish?" Father Charles asked. "In fact, the more you share it, the brighter the light becomes. The candle you hold by yourself is never going to be as bright as the combination of all the candles together. I wish you could see what I see when I'm at the altar. It is a beautiful sight. All those candles, all that light. I wish safety regulations didn't require that we keep some lights on. It's more effective if you're starting with total darkness."

Tim nodded.

"How do you feel, Tim?"

Tim swallowed and then smiled.

"Better."

"I told you that you would if you let yourself."

"Yes, you did."

"Ready to convert?"

"No," Tim said, but he laughed as he said it.

It was such a common thing between them that neither took offense at the question or the answer.

"This is going to be a stretch as an analogy, Tim, but give me a little leeway. You need to join your light with the light of your friends. You'll all be benefitted by it. You'll all be strengthened. ...and you don't have to be alone. If you're still struggling, why not use the strength that is available from others to lift you up?"

"They have so much else to deal with," Tim said softly.

"And you don't want to add to it, but don't you think they miss having you around, too?"

Tim shook his head.

"I think you're wrong. Just like you were wrong about being blamed for the accident, about being responsible for it, about them not wanting you there. You're wrong about this. I'm sure of it. They miss you, but probably, like you, they don't want to admit it. Let yourself feel that strength and that unity. One of the reasons for organized religion is that God knows we need to strengthen each other. If we didn't need that, we'd all be hermits living in the desert alone. Even monks in a monastery have a community. There is strength in numbers...and that goes for everyone. A few are happy to be completely alone, but most need someone to be with them. There's no weakness in that. There's no shame."

Tim said nothing. He just looked at the flickering candle.

"You felt better just by lighting a little candle with a whole bunch of people you don't know from Adam. Think about how much better you could feel by sharing your light with the people you actually care about and getting light _from_ them."

Another silence and then Tim looked at him and smiled.

"That _was_ a stretch for an analogy."

"But you got my point, right?"

Tim nodded.

"Tim, I love seeing you here. Even if you never accede to the inevitable and convert..."

"Inevitable?" Tim asked.

"You're Irish...at least somewhere in your history. How could you _not_ be Catholic?"

Tim laughed.

"...even with that, I do love to see you come because, convert or not, I can't see anything negative about you choosing to spend time in the house of God. I think it's a wonderful thing, but it saddens me that you're still having so much trouble. It's serious, but you are making it worse than it has to be. It feels to me like you are punishing yourself when no one but you thinks that punishment is necessary."

Tim blew out the candle.

"Can you tell me why this keeps happening to me?" Tim asked softly, almost in a whisper.

"No, Tim. I can't. I'm not all-knowing. I understand that it's a struggle for you, but maybe, this struggle can lead to healing that you haven't had yet."

"Is there always a bright side?"

"You might have to search long and hard for it, sometimes."

Tim was quiet for a long time. Suddenly, he seemed to realize how late it was. He sat up and wiped at his eyes.

"It's really late. You must be tired," Tim said. "I'm sorry. I told myself that I wasn't going to do this when I decided to come tonight."

"Do what? Ask for help?"

"Yeah. I'm already meeting with a therapist every week."

"That doesn't mean that you're confined to one source of help. If you want an untrained voice, you've got mine."

Tim smiled.

"I appreciate it."

"So...go home, sleep...and promise yourself that you're going to stop punishing yourself for not needing physical therapy."

"You don't want me to promise you?" Tim asked.

"You're not hurting me. You're hurting yourself, and I can tell you that God doesn't want that. Sometimes, pain is necessary. I admit it, but this self-flagellation is not something you need to do. So...stop it."

Tim laughed.

"I'll try."

"Do you believe me?"

"Yeah..."

"I know. Easier said than done. Just make a start. That's all you have to do. ...and the other thing that you should do?"

"What?"

"Tell your friends how you're feeling."

"No!" Tim said. "No. Then, they'll just feel guilty and it's not their fault."

"No, it's not, and you can say that, but how are they supposed to change anything if they don't know how you're feeling? Try it."

"I can't take it back if you're wrong."

"It's a good thing I'm not wrong, then, right?"

Father Charles smiled and squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"I'm right. I'm not 100 percent positive, but I'm at least 95 percent positive that I'm right. If you let them in, they'll let you in. ...and you'll be able to have a light that is that much brighter. Yes, I'm still stretching the analogy to the breaking point."

Tim smiled and stood up. Father Charles stood as well.

"Well?"

"I'll try it."

"Good. Now, go home and sleep."

"Will do."

Father Charles watched Tim walk out of the church and then walked back to remove all his ceremonial vestments. As he did, he reflected on the Vigil.

What a blessing he had received.

With that thought he went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

Father Charles had just finished one of his less enjoyable tasks: a meeting. Now, he was back in his church which made him smile with relief. There would be a Bible study class in a few hours, but for now, he had some time to reflect.

...not much as it turned out.

Someone came into the church and approached him.

"You're Father Charles?"

"Yes. Who are you?" he asked.

"Jethro Gibbs."

For a moment, the name went over his head and then he remember the names Tim had said when talking about the people he worked with.

"Oh. You're Tim's boss. Nice to meet you," he said, shaking Gibbs' hand. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Is something wrong with Tim?"

"No."

"Okay. Could I ask why you're here?"

Gibbs smiled a little. "You could."

"Then, why are you here? Not that I mind, of course, but I'm surprised to see you here."

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For getting Tim to talk to us. Nothing we were doing was getting through. It felt like he was trying to keep us away. All that time he spent working mostly alone didn't help."

"So he did tell you how he was feeling?"

"After a few false starts. He felt uncomfortable talking about it."

"Doesn't surprise me. Is he doing better, then?"

"We all are."

"It's always nice to know that I was right."

"Why did he come to you?"

"I don't know, but he ended up here once. Maybe God led him to a place where he could get the help he needed. ...even if he didn't want to admit that he needed the help in the first place."

Gibbs smiled.

"Thank you," he said again.

"My pleasure, and you can tell Tim that he's still welcome to come even when he doesn't have any problems for me to help with."

"I will."

Then, Gibbs left. Father Charles watched him go and smiled. No time to reflect, but that was all right. This was a lot better than simple reflection.

Rebirth, indeed.

FINIS!


End file.
